


emotional honesty: 1, tim drake: 0

by ohallows (dean_n_pie)



Series: looking back at the same two kids [2]
Category: DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: (kon is very minimally in this story), AU post-tim being kidnapped by Mr Oz, Angst, Gen, discussions of family, eat my ass james tynion iv
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-27 16:17:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13251924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dean_n_pie/pseuds/ohallows
Summary: Exploring Tim’s thoughts about how Bruce simply assumed him dead after he was kidnapped by Mr Oz and how that messed with him upon returning to Earth





	emotional honesty: 1, tim drake: 0

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY i posted this on tumblr and forgot to post here so! here! basically my thoughts on how tim would have reacted emotionally to kind of, hmm, finding out about how no one from the family really even cared that he was gone even though he was so confident that people were looking for him.
> 
> Also, jtiv’s stupid contrived future tim plot doesn’t exist and he can choke. this was written in the good timeline before that bs happened.
> 
> (basically this was written almost right after tim was “killed” and before we got canon confirmation that bruce was (barely) looking for him and before jtiv ruined what could have been a good thing - also references a wip i have (slightly) but it shouldn’t be confusing)
> 
> also dc might have forgotten that the batfamily is actually a family and that alfred LOVES HIS BOYS SO MUCH but i haven’t!! i rebuke the narrative that says otherwise!
> 
> kudos and comments are appreciated!!

One morning, Alfred shows up at the door with a large bag and a pair of oven mitts slung over his arm. Tim takes one look at the monitor and tenses, biting his bottom lip. Conner shoots him a quick glance, ready to very politely ask Alfred to leave if Tim looks like he can't handle it - but Tim just nods at the video screen and stands up, heading for the door.

Conner doesn't follow and Tim breathes a soft sigh of relief. He knows it's been difficult for all of them since he got back - after leaving the Manor thanks to some vivid nightmares, after cutting off most contact with Bruce, after... everything.

Conner's been walking on eggshells around him ever since he got out of the hospital, and Tim kind of wants to strangle him and say that he's fine, that he's okay, but he still wakes up at night screaming from thoughts of being trapped in Oz's prison. So. He isn't going to piss off the one person who's been willing to sit up with him while he reasserts reality.

(Everyone else would do it if he asked, but Tim still isn't really good at... asking for things, so. It's irrelevant.)  
Everyone else is out of the tower and Tim expects Conner will keep his distance, so he lets Alfred in without any worries and helps him carry everything he brought up to the kitchen level.

"With so many of you residing here, I would have thought one of you would pick up groceries once in a blue moon," Alfred remarks, bending down as he places the contents of the bag into the (pretty sparse) fridge.

Tim shrugs. "Everyone's busy."

"I'm sure."

He hops up on top of the island and sits cross-legged, watching Alfred busy himself with the food he brought.

"Thanks," he remembers to say, a little belatedly, but Alfred just nods.

"Someone has to feed all of you," he says, sniffing a little. Tim rolls his eyes fondly and lets his legs swing over the edge of the island, kicking them back and forth gently.

There's something about Alfred that always makes him feel younger than he is. Like a kid getting caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"So, what prompted the visit?" Tim asks, grabbing a stick of celery and getting a slap on the hand. "Ow!"

"Hands to yourself, Master Tim," Alfred says, continuing to cut vegetables like he'd never been interrupted. Tim peers over his shoulder, like he used to do before he was Red Robin, before he distanced himself from everyone. "I'm here to check on you, see how you're coming along. Miss Thompkins and Miss Brown were asking after you as well."

"I'm fine," Tim says automatically.

"I believe I'll be the judge of that," Alfred says dryly.

Tim grimaces, because he might be able to lie to Bruce and Kori if the situation calls for it but Alfred's always been able to see right through him. Alfred's always been able to see through all of them, even Bruce.

It's a gift.

"Humor me, Master Tim, with the truth up front."

Tim nods, but his heart is already sinking in his chest.

He's been doing so good keeping it bottled up, apart from that one outburst with Conner, and he really doesn't want to revisit that again.

Emotional intimacy 1, Tim Drake 0. He'd like to keep it that way.

"How are you doing?" Alfred asks, once more. Tim lets out a sigh.

"Physically I'm fine. A little sore, but I'm out of shape. I didn't really keep up my training regimen in the cell."

"And mentally?" Alfred asks, glancing at him.

Tim shrugs. "I've had worse."

It technically isn't a lie. Alfred doesn't seem to be amused.

"Okay, okay, I've had a few nightmares, but Conner's always there and he helps me through them."

"Good lad," Alfred says with an approving tone.

"They weren't as bad as when I first got out, so at least they're improving."

"Hmm. You should have told Master Bruce or myself," Alfred says, frowning. "Is that why you left the Manor?"

"Uh," Tim says, twisting his fingers together. "There were a few reasons."  
Alfred doesn't say anything which is enough indication that he expects Tim to expand on that little golden nugget of information.

"I was - I don't know, being there, it was - it was too much, I mean. I'd just gotten back and Bruce said he hadn't looked for me and I guess it was just - it was a lot," Tim says. "I guess I thought... someone would have tried."

Elephant, meet room. The silence stretches out while Tim chews on the inside of his cheek.  
"Ah. I understand," Alfred says.

"No, no, it's really nothing, I don't blame you or anything, Alfred, really, I just -"

"Master Tim, let me get to the crux of the issue, if I may. I would like to apologize for what happened. Neither Master Bruce nor myself should have simply... given up, as you phrased it, and while I cannot speak for him - although I believe I do - I deeply regret it," Alfred says, inclining his head slightly.

Tim swallows heavily, because this was exactly where he _hadn't_ wanted the conversation to go.

"I don't want - it's fine, I understand, you all thought I was dead, I mean - I would have thought the same."

"That doesn't excuse our inaction."

"No, Alfred, it's - I mean, I'm not," Tim lets out an explosive sigh. "What could you have done, I've been trapped in a sort-of pocket dimension... it's been - I just don't - Why didn't you or Bruce or Dick even think to look for me?" His voice cracks slightly and his fists tighten against his thighs, turning white at the knuckles.

Alfred, characteristically, remains quiet, letting Tim continue talking.

"I mean. I was - I was in there for months. I kept thinking someone would come, that every time I would break out someone would be there. I used to dream that Bruce or Dick showed up outside my cell, broke me out.

"I didn't know what day it was, but I tried to keep track, and the longer it went the longer I - I just - I realized no one was coming and it-" Tim breaks off with a muffled sob and presses his hands harder into his legs, staring almost angrily at them -and refusing to make eye contact with Alfred.

"Everyone fought tooth and nail to bring Damian back when he died, and Jason - I just - what did I do wrong? Why didn't anyone look for me?"

"We should have," Alfred says, and Tim flinches. He - he knows Alfred means it, that he genuinely regrets not looking, but it's still too soon for Tim and he never pretended to be a rational person.

He knows he shouldn't blame Bruce or Alfred or Dick or Jason or Kate or Babs or any of them, but it's hard to remember that when he thinks he's stuck back in that cell, waiting for someone who's never going to come.

But he doesn't want it to get twisted, because he's _trying_ to be rational and clear-headed, and he doesn't want this too to turn into something that pits him against his brothers, but he can't help but compare himself to them.

It's just - it's not them that are the problem, it's _him_ , and he doesn't want Alfred to think that he blames Bruce for caring about them, because he doesn't, he... god, it's becoming so convoluted and Tim _hates_ it, he's never been good at expressing himself and he hates it.

"I'm not - I'm not angry with Bruce mourning them, he - Bruce did mourn Jason, he should have, he deserved it and Jason deserved to be mourned, and same with Damian, but just - why didn't I? Why was I the one he didn't look for?" Tim can feel the tears steadily building up behind his eyes, and he can't stop them from falling anymore, can't fight it off as a tear splashes onto his legs.

He looks up at the sound of footsteps, and then Alfred's arms are around him, squeezing tight as his face presses into Alfred's shoulder. His voice hitches and he tries to stop, but he _can't_ , all he can do is sit there in Alfred's arms and shake.

"Do _not_ ," Alfred says, and his voice is fiercer than Tim has ever heard it, "for one _moment_ , think that Master Bruce or myself loved you any less than them, Timothy. Never.

"You, all of you... from the moment you came into our lives Master Bruce and myself loved you, and nothing - _nothing_ \- can stop that from being true," Alfred says, hand moving to rest on the back of Tim's head. He strokes the hair there and Tim's hands come up, wrapping around Alfred in return.

"And I, for one, am so _proud_ of you. Of all of you. And I know Master Bruce feels the same."

Tim clutches Alfred a little tighter and hiccups a little.

"I'm getting your suit all wet," he says, wiping at his face as he leans back.

Alfred lets go of him with a smile.

"Worse things have been done to my suits, if you would believe it. Why, I remember when Master Jason was a teenager..." Alfred starts, going off into a story about Jason and cooking. Tim just sits there and closes his eyes, listening as Alfred tells him stories and chops up the vegetables on the tray.

He still isn't - it still isn't okay, and he really needs to talk to Bruce, like, _really_  needs to, but this is good. This moment right here is peaceful.

"Hey, Alfred?" he says, once the story is over and they're sitting there in a comfortable silence.

"Yes, Master Tim?"

"Thanks."


End file.
